"Miss Enschede, you're seven kinds of a brick!" "A brick?" He chuckled. CHAPTER XXII Every morning at dawn it was Spurlock's custom to take a plunge in the lagoon. The manservant shall bring your trunks in and pay the fare too, if you like. She thrust at him, following, almost spitting him as he crashed against the altar, rocking the huge candlesticks and the vessels that stood on it. I've a shrewd guess where he's taken refuge; but I'll ferret him out. They must have a key.
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